“I don’t know.” He raised his hand— then raised theotherone without the IV— and rubbed his face.God, I want Rusty here. As my boyfriend.But was that selfish?
Marie massaged his shoulder and gave him another sip of water.
He opened his eyes to meet hers. “Thanks. Sorry, I’m a mess.”
“No, I’m stupid.” She waved him down when he would’ve objected. “You know what I mean. I just… I have to head out. This meeting’s vital, and I already cut my flight time close. I wish Rusty was here to take care of you for me.”
What about Mom?But his mother had never been good with injuries and hospitals and blood. “I’ll be fine. Hey, how come you saw a little puff piece about a community center?”
“I have a notification alert for stories that mention you. This was different from‘His injury status remains unclear’so I checked it out.”
“It’s a good cause. We could throw a little money to them, help with expenses.”
“I’ll mention it to the Foundation staff.” She pushed up out of her chair. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Positive. I’m just going to sleep anyhow.”
“The doctor seemed pleased with the surgery when she talked to me. She said she’d be by later.”
“That’s good.” Cross didn’t want to think about the surgery.
“There’s a man on your door, like usual, so if you need anything and don’t want to ring for the nurse, give a yell. The security guy’s Sven tonight, you know him.”
“Got it.”
She hovered. “You want more water?”
He did but he said, “Go catch your flight.”
“Keep in touch. Text, FaceTime, whatever. Although I’ll be in Japan, so remember the time difference if I don’t answer.”
“I will. Go on.”
When the door had closed behind her, Cross lay very still in the bed, counting his breaths. This was better than the first time. His left leg felt fine. Not even a residual ache with the meds onboard, although he had muscle to rebuild. His right ankle was no worse than at first, and he wasn’t as scared.That’s a lie.Last time, he’d hoped he had simple fractures, painful and frustrating, but straightforward to heal. This time he knew better.
Don’t think about that. Don’t think about that. Don’t, don’t, don’t.He tensed and relaxed every muscle in his body that wasn’t his throbbing ankle, one by one. Mindful relaxation. Did it again, naming them because he’d memorized an anatomy chart one time, thinking that it might be useful.Deltoid, biceps brachii, brachioradialis…
A nurse came in to check on him, with the doctor behind. The doc waited as the nurse took his vital signs, then she sat in the chair at his bedside. “How are you doing?”
“I’m okay.”
“Pain under control?”
He wouldn’t have said no to a little boost from the IV, but he wanted a clear head. “Fine.”
“Everything went well. I still think it was a wise decision to get the ankle replacement now, rather than try a different stabilization. The bone healing was still quite poor when I went in there. If we hadn’t done replacement today, I am certain we’d have been back doing it another few months down the road.”
“That’s…” Notgood, notreassuring, but perhaps, “helpful, to believe I made the right choice.”
She met his eyes as if trying to convince him. “You did. All my clinical judgement says so.”
“What now?”
“Recovery and rehab, just like in all the materials I sent home with you. The cast stays on for two weeks and you keep the foot elevated ninety percent of the time. You get a boot at two weeks, with more mobility but still elevating. Go back to a shoe at eight weeks.”
“And full healing takes a year.” He ground out those words, like he didn’t know, like he hadn’t tossed the options around in his mind till he thought his brain would run out his ears.
“By one year, you should have all the strength and mobility you’re likely to achieve.” She said it steadily.
